The Wars Within
by EsTeLweNadia
Summary: Oneshot. The war had ended. But Katsushiro was still struggling with another war. The war with himself.


**Title**: The War Within

**By**: EsTeLweNadia

**Summary**: Oneshot. The war had ended. But Katsushiro was still struggling with another war. The war with himself.

**Rating**: Angsty. Really angsty. No kidding.

**Disclaimer**: Samurai 7 is not mine, and will never be.

**Author's Note**: I like Katsushiro. He was innocent and naïve (cute, too), and I can only gauge so as to how badly he was actually affected by war, when he was forced to be part of the war, to _be_ what he was, a samurai, not just _claiming _to be what he was. First Samurai 7 fiction.

As always, comments and constructive criticism are immensely appreciated.

Go on… read…and enjoy!

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It was raining in Kanna Village. It had been raining ever since the war had ended. Gloomy, dark and heavy were the sky. Even the days looked like night with the depressing rainclouds that refused to leave the horizon. The chilly winds and occasional thunder and lightning only seemed to increase the mourning note in the weather.

It was as though the heavens itself was grieving for those killed during the war for peace. Its tears streamed down and cleansed the weary Earth of the blood spilled and the dust of destruction, washing them away into nothing more than a bad memory, or a nightmare.

Undeterred by the onslaught of tears was the miserable form of a young samurai, who knelt down in front of the graves of his fallen comrades. His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they went bloodless white; his lips were pressed into a hard grim line on the pale face, with his emerald hair hanging limply in the rain. The wet bangs plastered uncomfortably against his forehead, and he didn't bother to brush them away, so helplessly he was drowning in his grief and guilt.

_It was all my fault_, he whispered, and that phrase alone was already becoming a chant in his head. _All my fault. It was all my fault. If only I was stronger… faster… braver…_

Gorobei wouldn't have been killed. He was right there, yet he couldn't do anything to save his friend. Except to watch helplessly as the amiable entertainer was thrown back by a harsh blow, crashing against walls when he was already so badly injured. When Gorobei was rasping his final words, Katsushiro could only dash to his side and begged him to hold on, to stay alive, and his wail was heart-rending when the fallen samurai had breathed his last.

_Gorobei wouldn't have been killed if only I didn't hesitate… if only I was stronger, faster, braver…_

Heihachi was the second to fall, and like Gorobei, the pleasant samurai was felled right in front of him. Heihachi trusted him to watch his back while he rigged up an explosion to the engine but Katsushiro failed to even perform that simple task. The enemies had easily penetrated his feeble defenses and wounded Heihaichi. Wounded as he was, he had bravely continued his efforts, even as a sword from a bandit had pinned him against the pillar. Katsushiro remembered the biting helplessness he felt when he was forced to leave Heihachi the way he was, to get to safety. The last thing he heard from Heihachi was his cry that he wanted to eat rice, before an explosion deafened the atmosphere and followed by groaning crashes of the resulting debris.

_Heihachi wouldn't have died if only I didn't hesitate… if only I was stronger, faster, braver…_

It was Kyuuzo-dono's death that he felt more keenly, because he was the one that took the life of the samurai away. He had killed Kyuuzo-dono. With his own hands. He had been overcome with terror that he couldn't think rationally, except to kill the enemy that was near to Sensei Kanbei. He did not see that the blond samurai was behind the enemy and he fired away. At such a close range the bullets ripped through the enemy and into Kyuuzo-dono. His terror escalated notches higher when Kanbei caught the man as he fell. He was so, so terribly terrified when Kyuuzo-dono died… horrified at what he had done, horrified that he had killed Kanbei's challenge, horrified that he had killed the samurai that he had respected greatly. Horrified that he was the one that did it. He had tearfully pleaded Kanbei to take his life but Sensei only said that in war things like that happened, and that it was not entirely his fault.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," he murmured, rocking slightly as tears within him burst forth, cascading down his cheeks and dripping down rapidly, like the rain itself. "I am so sorry, so sorry, so sorry… I am so sorry… It is all my fault… all my fault…"

The last one to fall was Kikuchiyo. He had not seen how the loud mechanical peasant-turned-samurai was felled, but his death had affected him greatly too. Kikuchiyo had been a good friend, one that brought so much noise and spirit for the team. One who used his amazing strength and bulk to the team's advantage. From what Shichiroji told him, Kikuchiyo died while trying to stop the advance of the defeated capital from reaching Kanna Village. Komachi had been devastated for the loss of the samurai. And Kirara…

At that Katsushiro shook his head harshly, firmly dislodging any thoughts that related to her. He had failed to win her heart, even though he had made his feelings clear to her, for she had given her heart to someone else. If he had failed to win a maiden's heart, how could he succeed in winning the wars? In proving that he was a worthy samurai just like everyone else?

So engrossed he was in his self-reproach he didn't hear silent footsteps approaching him. Didn't notice when the new presence stood behind him and watched his depressed profile with saddened silver eyes. Eyes, hardened and emotionless during the entire quest to defend the Kanna Village, were now softened with warm, fatherly affection.

"Katsushiro," he said quietly, firmly.

The young samurai jumped visibly at the voice and whirled around. Eyes went wide, and mouth gaping in surprise. Abruptly he composed himself and turned away, murmuring a softly detached, "Sensei…"

"You have mourned for them quite splendidly," Kanbei stated, ignoring how the emptiness in the young man's voice tugged at his heartstrings. "It is time for you to stop."

Katsushiro stiffened, and despite the overwhelming grief he felt, he could not help a thin veil of cold indifference from showing in his curt reply. "I will if I feel that I have grieved enough."

"And when will that be?" the veteran warrior countered calmly. "Days? Weeks? Months? Or perhaps even years? You have been kneeling there for two consecutive nights already."

"I have not bothered anyone and expect to be treated the same," Katsushiro retorted coolly. His heart chided him for being impolite to his Sensei but in that moment he couldn't care less. He just wanted to be left alone. Couldn't Sensei see it?

Kanbei allowed a faint smirk on his face. "It is true that you have not bothered anyone, but you have bothered them, my young apprentice. I am sure you know as well as I do that they do not wish for you to mourn over their demise." A slight pause as he once again silently appraised the hunched profile of the young man. "Or... correct me if I am wrong, but are you really mourning for them or busy fighting the wars within you?"

Katsushiro actually flinched. "I don't know what you are talking about, Sensei."

"You don't or you pretend you don't?"

The silence that was resulted was such that for a brief moment the only thing they could hear was the sounds of battering rain slamming against the ground, the deafening claps of thunders and the piercing howls of the enraged winds.

"It is my fault, isn't it, Sensei?" Katsushiro's voice was soft, but Kanbei's sharp hearing was able to pick it up, even detect the silent misery that colored the tone. "It is my fault that they… they… died. Because I am simply not strong enough. Neither am I faster, or stronger. I am nothing but a useless, worthless excuse for a samurai."

Stunned temporarily at the heartfelt sentiment, Kanbei could only murmur, "Katsushiro…"

"Gorobei was there but I could not do anything except to watch him get hurt," Katsushiro continued, barely able to contain a sob, "Heihachi trusted me to watch his back while he rigged up an explosion to the engine, but I failed him. When Kikuchiyo died I wasn't even there with him. And Kyuuzo-dono…" He trailed off, and he could not stop his body from trembling from cold and something else much more sinister; guilt and anguish. "I have killed him with my own two hands! I am a useless comrade… a murderer… a monster!"

"Katsushiro," Kanbei said, a gentle warning.

"I thought I was a samurai… am someone who holds true to a samurai code… but being in this mission just proved to me how wrong I am," Katsushiro went on, heedless of Kanbei's warning. "I am someone who is weak, who barely knows how to fight… someone who only knows how to talk. I am a failure… to everyone else and to myself. A failure… a terrible disappointment…"

"That is quite enough, Katsushiro!"

The young samurai flinched, but his body never ceased its trembling. If it was any possible the slender, drenched form only shook harder.

"You are not a failure, nor are you a disappointment," Kanbei said sternly. "Yes, at first you were, but at the later part of the quest you have proven yourself worthy. Yes, you were a failure when you left us, but you are NOT a failure when you returned to help defend Kanna Village while the rest of us were concentrated on attacking the capital. If it wasn't for you the village might not have survived to see this day."

"But…!"

"Their deaths are inevitable, Katsushiro, and it is not your fault that they were felled in the first place," Kanbei said softly, gazing at the graves with solemn eyes. "This is war. Wars claim the lives of the innocent, of the enemies, of those fighting for peace. Wars invoke betrayals, test your loyalty and courage and bring out the true warrior or villain in you. Wars can force you to turn against your friends, families, even your countries if you are determined to achieve your goals. No matter what, deaths are inevitable in wars."

There was no response from the younger man; he just sat there, unmoving except for the shudders that shook his hunched body.

Then, unexpectedly, the voice came. It was so soft Kanbei had to strain to listen. "Really?"

Kanbei frowned, not understanding. "Really what?"

A short silence. It was as though Katsushiro was trying to pull himself together. "It is not my fault?"

He sounded so lost, so broken, so afraid Kanbei felt his heart reaching out for the grieving samurai. "No, it is not your fault. I believe that they don't blame you either."

Katsushiro took a deep, shuddering breath. "So… you are not mad at me? You don't hate… me?"

"No, Katsushiro," Kanbei said firmly. "Never once I lay a blame on you. In fact, I am proud of you."

Katsushiro stiffened. After a long while, he staggered to his feet and turned around to face the weathered warrior. Kanbei's gaze softened further as he took in the very anguished jade eyes, the pale, sunken face and the utterly drenched profile. His heart wrenched when Katsushiro looked at him with a timid, hopeful expression.

"Really?" The voice was soft, hesitant, afraid.

"Yes," Kanbei said seriously.

Katsushiro sighed and his weary eyes slid close. He was so tired… His body ached all over, and he was so cold… Yet, upon hearing the confession of his sensei that he was not mad at him, the shadows in his heart slowly faded away. "Thank goodness."

No sooner had he murmured the two words, the edging darkness that had lurked nearby surged forward and consumed him hungrily.

He had the sensation of falling, falling through the darkness, and thought he felt strong arms catching him before he hit rock bottom, if there was any bottom at all.

Then he knew no more.

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When he came to, he was belatedly aware of several things; he felt strangely weak and a little too warm and he was on his back and had to squint against the nearby glow of an oil lamp. His head throbbed incessantly; he tried to raise his hand to his head to help ease the pain but realized that he could not move his arm. Confused, he blinked and gazed down, willing his vision to focus. When it finally did, to his dismay he found himself being securely wrapped in thick blankets.

"Ah, Katsushiro-sama, you have awakened!"

He frowned. That voice was familiar but for some infuriating reason he couldn't seem to remember anything. Maybe it was because of the relentless pain in his head. Before he had the chance to ask, recognizable long tresses of soft brown hair swung into view, followed by anxious blue eyes.

He blinked, not believing what, or rather, who he saw. "Kirara?"

That single word, came out in a rasp, trickled his throat and wracked his body in a coughing fit. In the midst of his harsh coughs, he faintly heard Kirara's murmuring soothing sounds as gentle hands braced his shoulders. When he was done, his throat felt raw, and it burned. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, exhausted.

"Katsushiro-sama," Kirara called softly.

He opened his eyes, and saw the former water priestess holding up a glass of water. Inhaling deeply, he struggled into a sitting position. The glass of water was brought to his lips, gently tilted upwards so the water flowed easily into his mouth and down his aching throat. When he could not drink anymore, he slowly shook his head. Kirara withdrew the glass away from him and eased him back into the futon, covering him once more with the blanket.

"What is wrong with me?" He rasped, couldn't understand why he felt so weak, like his strength was dissipating through his fingertips with every passing second.

A sad, soft smile graced her lips, accentuating the melancholy ambers smothering in her concerned gaze. "You were having a high fever, Katsushiro-sama. You had not woken up for three days. It was a struggle to bring your fever down. It was exactly like when we were in the Underground City. I was so scared… so scared that…"

Kirara trailed off and looked away, her hands fisting tightly on the hem of her skirt. Down with sickness or not, Katsushiro was still a samurai, and with still sharp – though not as sharp as he was when he was in his peak condition - eyes he could see her lithe body trembling slightly.

"Kirara," he croaked.

The lady shifted her attention to him again, and to his surprise he saw that the once vibrant blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "What's wrong? Why are you troubled?"

"I do not want to lose you," Kirara said softly. "I am afraid once again that I will lose you to your fever."

Katsushiro stared at her. "I don't understand. You have given your heart to Sensei. Why are you worrying about me?"

"I was a fool, Katsushiro-sama," The whisper was no louder than the soft night breeze. "I had given my heart to a man only to realize that the affections I felt for him is akin to that of a daughter to her father, and he treats me the same. It was then I realized that I… I should have given my heart to someone who loves me… loves me as someone special. I should have given my heart to you…"

For a very long moment Katsushiro didn't say anything; he just looked at her with his carefully guarded expression that revealed nothing. Kirara trembled slightly under that penetrating gaze. Her heart thudded in fear, anxiety… how would the man whom she had betrayed react to her confession?

"It's alright, Kirara," he said at last, sighing. "It's alright."

"It's not alright!" She blurted. "How can you still be forgiving after what I have done to you? After I have returned your heart and gave mine to someone else? After I had hurt you so much?"

"It's alright," he repeated, his voice gentle, soft, sincere.

The tears that she had fought so hard to hold back streamed down her cheeks like angry rivers. She let them spilled and dripped onto her hands fisted tightly on her lap. She was indeed a fool. What made her refuse the young samurai's love? How could she forget the way he held her hand and never let go in times of peril? How he kept that promise so faithfully? What had made her so blind?

A gentle finger reached up and touched her face, lightly wiped the tears away. Startled, she lifted her eyes, and met Katsushiro's, misted with fever but surprisingly sharp with concern. And something much more… something that made her heart flutter with delight.

Instinctively she caught that hand and sandwiched it in between both of her slightly trembling palms. She looked at the feverish man in his eyes.

"Is it too late for me to offer you my heart, Katsushiro-sama?" she whispered.

There was that silence again. The slow, deep stare that was completely unreadable. Kirara shivered under the unflinching gaze. Why didn't he say anything?

He smiled, then. It was a beautiful smile, so filled with warmth Kirara felt happier, because that was how he used to smile before he made his first kill. She had forgotten how that smile sent heated blushes on her cheeks, made her look away, made her feel embarrassed and uncomfortable.

She gave a soft, startled gasp when Katsushiro released his hand from her hold and then moved to take both of her hands in his.

"No," he replied, smiling and eyes shining. "It is never too late. I have always loved you, Kirara, and will love you with all my heart till the end of time."

"Oh, Katsushiro-sama!" She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed. This time the tears that fell afresh were the tears of happiness.

Katsushiro hugged her back gently. Finally… he had won a lady's heart. Finally, the lady he had loved from the first sight had loved him back. He never felt this blissful before. He wished this moment would stay forever. He sighed contentedly, hugging her a little tighter. The warmth and fragrance emanated from Kirara were pleasant enough to lull him into a slumber. And this time, the shadows of guilt that had long plagued him did not return to haunt him in his sleep. This time, he dreamt nothing but eternal warmth and happiness, in the arms of his lady love.

Kirara was startled when Katsushiro's arm fell away, his head drooping on her shoulder. "Katsushiro-sama?"

She was answered by a series of gentle snores. Kirara smiled. The young warrior had fallen asleep. She gently laid him back onto the futon and covered him with the blankets. A hand fleeted to his forehead. Thank goodness. The fever had finally broken, and Katsushiro was well on the road to recovery.

Kirara sighed contentedly, gazing at the peaceful features of the warrior with eyes filled with love before throwing her look to the outside the window. It had stopped raining, and the sun was shining with a radiance that couldn't match the radiance of the smile on the woman's face.

Hidden in the shadows of the forest, Kanbei watched them, and allowed himself a smile to grace his features. He watched them a little longer, then turned around to enter the deeper recesses of the forest.


End file.
